Daylight
by TearYourHeartInTwo
Summary: Ian and Anthony hate the last night of every convention they go to. Ianthony. Hints of Ian/Melanie and Anthony/Kalel/Kristen.


**Disclaimer/Pairing(s)/Author's Note: I don't own Smosh, nor do I own the song ****_Daylight_****. However, I do own this writing. Please don't use or claim as your own.**

**IanxAnthony. Hinted IanxMelanie and AnthonyxKalel/Kristen.**

**Once again, I truly do like Melanie and Kalel/Kristen. However, I also like Ianthony, which is exactly why I'm writing this.**

Anthony loved going to Playlist live for many reasons. He loved seeing his fans, he loved the location, but, most of all, he loved the alone time it gave him with Ian. The convention was _their_ time together, over two thousand miles away from their significant others, their time to relax and go back to the way things had been at one point in time, before Melanie had moved in with Ian and before Anthony had left the Smosh house to live with Kristen.

He loved her, he really did. But he also loved Ian. He had always loved Ian.

Spending time with Ian was great, he'd agree to the fact. They had an entire weekend to themselves in which they could laugh and act stupid and pretend they were together and that neither of them had girlfriends waiting for them at home.

These were factors as to why the last day was always the hardest. It was like pulling teeth, like someone was kicking them in the balls, or, to Anthony, like someone had ripped out his heart and stomped it to pieces.

Though it was little after 3AM, their hotel room was almost perfectly illuminated by the city lights. Ian pressed himself further into Anthony, his face pressing into the taller boy's neck. Anthony wrapped his arms tighter around Ian, mesmerized by the warmth of his body and the way they seemed to fit perfectly together, almost like pieces of a puzzle.

"I hate this," Ian mumbled half-heartedly into the bare skin of Anthony's collarbone. It's a mutual feeling, Anthony wanted to tell him, because I don't want to leave you and you don't want to leave me. "It's bullshit. We do this every time. How can you stand the pain?"

The dark-haired male forced a laugh. "Because I remember that we'll be able to do it again. It's not permanent, Ian," he reminded. The bowl-haired man snorted, dismissing the thought. "The feeling doesn't just disappear, either. I just refocus it on something else. I black the thoughts out until I'm alone and then I remember that I do love you. So much."

"But you love her." Ian raised his head, eyes welling with tears that threatened to flow. He didn't mean for his words to sound acidic, because he knew the feeling. He was guilty of the exact same thing and it was eating him away. He hated the idea that, one day, he would have to choose between his girlfriend or his best friend and lover and it would tear him apart. He blinked, trying to shoo the tears away, letting out a disgruntled sigh when one ran down his cheek. He brought his wrist up to wipe it away when he noticed that, similarly, Anthony had tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I know. That's what makes this so hard," Anthony commented, cupping Ian's face in his hands. He ran his thumb over stubble, trying to comfort his lover. Instead, they both watched each other warily, both wanting to plead, 'Please, stay with me because I love you more than she ever could.' Slowly, he leaned in, catching soft, pale lips in a deep kiss. Ian wrapped his arms around the darker skinned boy's shoulders, pulling him in closer. Tongues met, hearts fluttered, and tears rolled.

Ian was the one who broke their kiss. "We should be used to this by now, you know?" he joked, earning a small laugh. "This is killing me, Anthony."

It was killing them both.

Every time they would leave their fantasy world, a part of Ian felt like it shattered completely. He would return to Melanie and put on a front that everything was fine and would tell her about how awesome his weekend was and about all the fans he met. He would lie in bed beside her, his arms wrapped around her waist, but the entire time, his thoughts were elsewhere, in a better place, a place filled with the feeling of Anthony's bare skin on his, the other's smell intoxicating and his touches completely mesmerizing.

Anthony would return home to Kristen. She would meet him at the door with her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into one of her famous kisses, one of the ones that showed how much she missed him while he was gone. He would smile and kiss her back, promising that he missed her. He would touch her and caress her, vowing of his love to her, trying to block out the memory of Ian's hands on his back and wound in his hair, the words of love falling from his lips, and the way Ian's eyes lit up when he told him that he loved him, too.

They always hated the final night of a convention.


End file.
